At Hainton, there died in 1816, Samuel Sugars, aged fifty-two; and his body, with a single coffin weighed fifty stone. In 1754 died Mr. Jacob Powell, of Stebbing in Essex: his body was above five yards in circumference, and weighed five hundred and sixty pounds; requiring sixteen men to bear him to his grave. In 1775 Mr. Spooner, of Skillington near Tamworth, weighed, a short time before his death, forty stone and nine pounds, and measured four feet three inches across the shoulders. Keysler mentions a young man in Lincoln who ate eighteen pounds of beef daily, and died in 1724, in the twenty-eighth of his age, weighing five hundred and thirty pounds. A baker, in Pye Corner, weighed thirty-four stone, and would frequently eat a small shoulder of mutton, baked in his oven, and weighing five pounds; he, however, persisted for one year to live upon water-gruel and brown bread, by which he lost two hundred pounds of his bulk. Mr. Collet, master of the Evesham Academy, weighed upwards of twenty-six stone; when twelve years old, he was nearly as large as at the time of his death. At two years of age he required two nurses to lift him in and out of bed, one of whom in a fit of anger he felled to the floor with a blow of his hand. At Trenaw in Cornwall, there was a man, known by the name of Grant Chillcot, who weighed four hundred and sixty pounds; one of his stockings could contain six gallons of wheat. Our poet Butler must have met with some such enormous creatures in the type of his Saxon Duke, who, in Hudibras, ------did grow so fat, That mice (as histories relate) Ate grots and labyrinths to dwell in His postique parts, without his feeling. If obesity has been the subject of ungenerous jokes, leanness has not passed unnoticed. An anecdote is related of a reverend doctor of a very ghostly appearance, who was one day accosted by a fellow with the following salutation: "Well, doctor, I hope you have taken care of your _soul_?" "Why, my friend?" said the divine. "Because," replied the impertinent interlocutor, "your _body_ is not worth caring for." A poor diminutive Frenchman being ordered by his Sangrado to drink a quart of ptisan a day, replied, with a heavy sigh, "Alas! doctor, that I cannot do, since I only hold a pint." When the Duke de Choiseuil, a remarkably meager man, came to London to negotiate a peace, Charles Townshend being asked whether the French government had sent the preliminaries of a treaty, answered, "He did not know, but they had sent the _outline of an ambassador_."